Remembrance
by ThePurpleRose
Summary: He was always on the outside of the group, never really close to them, but after Torrent Forest, the heroes realise just how much Kratos really did for each of them and how much he meant to them. Character death. Contains some fluff and oyako.
1. Yuan's Ring

**AN: This was originally a one-shot but instead I've split it into parts. I don't really know what to say about it up here that won't spoil it... So yeah, I hope you enjoy it, and I'll be really interested to see what you all think of it. Any opinions (Including constructive criticism) are much appreciated! ^_^**

**EDIT****: revised 13/1/11 to incorporate (much needed) feedback. Again, if you could tell me what you think to it, and if you've got any suggestions on how to improve it, I would really like to know. This isn't my style of writing and I'd really like to improve. Thanks everyone!**

_**Disclaimer: Don't own ToS, so please don't sue me.**_

True to his word, the ceremony Yuan and his renegades had organised was a sombre, elegant affair that suited the man in question perfectly. The renegades bore a neatly polished casket of dark wood towards where Martel tended to the new tree, nine solemn, black-clad figures following behind, all maintaining a respectful silence.

Of the group of mourners, Lloyd had taken the lead, Colette and Genis faithfully flanking their childhood friend so closely that all three were interlinked. Zelos and Sheena marched behind, their eyes downcast, as Regal and Presea's heads were respectfully bowed as they followed the ninja and the Chosen. Yuan and Raine were at the back of the procession, Raine absorbed in thought while the leader of the renegades wore an impassive mask in the place of his features, though he was unable to control the shaking of his hands despite clenching them into fists.

He looked up towards the coffin, his stony mask beginning to crumble with the fresh realisation of who was within. He bit down on his lip, gasping as he tasted blood. Raine squeezed his arm, offering support, but he jerked it away.

He didn't deserve her kindness. He hadn't been able to save him, hadn't been there when he was needed most. All in all, he had failed in his duty, not just as a friend, but as family. Because that was what they'd been, hadn't they? That was what Mithos, while he had kept a tenuous hold on his sanity, had said, wasn't it? They were a family then, the three of them – all they really had.

His glass walls may have been re-erected, but as the procession halted, Yuan's eyes glazed over when he stepped into what was to be _his_ final resting place. Raine looked up at him in concern, but he didn't notice, as he was overcome by memories of_ him_.

_A clod of icy snow collided with the back of his head, sliding down his neck to leave a trail of biting cold and what was sure to soon be a very wet back. Laughter erupted from behind him as he whirled around to glare at the half-elven mastermind of snowball assaults: Mithos Yggdrasil._

_Instead, his eyes widened in surprise as he registered the laugh and the sight of a much larger figure than Mithos, who Yuan felt had an unfair advantage in snowball warfare considering he had recently won the pact with Celsius._

"_Why you little-"_

_Kratos Aurion merely lobbed another half-hearted snowball, which sailed harmlessly past Yuan's shoulder as he re-intensified his glare on the human swordsman._

"_I'm sorry, Yuan," the human finally managed to say, once he'd controlled his laughter. "You're just such an easy target!"_

"_I am not!" he defended in mock offense. He bent down to scoop up snow. "Oh, it is ON!"_

_A quick snowball fight ensued, concluding without a clear winner as Yuan tackled his best friend to the crisp, white ground, both immersed in laughter._

_The conversation didn't pick up as the laughter died down, both men lapsing into a comfortable silence until it was broken by Kratos._

"_You were thinking about her." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Kratos knew him well enough now that he didn't really have to guess._

"_Yeah," Yuan admitted._

_There was another pause._

"_I still prefer the Torrent Forest," the human revealed. "But I would place Flanoir a close second."_

_Yuan raised an eyebrow, challengingly. "Are you hinting something?"_

"_I might be," Kratos responded with a smile that answered the question more than his words._

_Yuan gave him a light push to the side, to which he chuckled, rolling over to spread his arms and legs as if he was making a snow angel._

"_Snow angel?" Yuan offered._

_The human sat up, staring at something in the distance. His expression blanked for a moment, before a small, wry smile was visible under the auburn hair his black hat had pushed down into his eyes. He shook his head irritably then turned his face back towards the puzzled half-elf and awarded him a dazzling smile._

"_Together?" he proposed._

_Both fell back into the snow, arms and legs waving frantically. Yuan finished first, expertly pulling himself into a crouch, arms outstretched, to rise from the snow without demolishing his snowy creation, before offering his human companion a helping hand, which the latter begrudgingly accepted._

_In unison, the pair stepped back to admire their masterpieces. There was a silence before:_

"_Mine's bigger than yours," Yuan teased._

_Kratos eyed the two snow angels critically. It wasn't. He shrugged. "Whatever helps you live with your inadequacies."_

"_I don't have inadequacies," Yuan corrected with a smirk. "I'm obviously perfect in every way."_

"_Oh?" Kratos responded, raising one eyebrow mockingly. "So it isn't that you're struggling to pluck up the courage to propose to Martel then?"_

_Yuan's cheeks flushed deep red._

_Kratos noticed. It was his turn to wear the smirk now. "Come on; out with it! Let me in on your master plan."_

_Flustered, Yuan tucked as much of his hair behind his ear as he could, despite the fact that most of it just fell back into his face immediately afterwards. "I-it's a secret," he stammered, tapping the side of his nose in a way that he hoped made him seem more in control that he was._

_Kratos didn't buy it. Both eyebrows were raised as Yuan averted his gaze away from the human's sharp yet amused eyes. Then the swordsman's expression softened and he smiled._

"_Just ask her," he said with a sigh. A devious smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as he added, "Before Mithos finds out and throws a hissy fit."_

"_Martel can deal with it," Yuan mused with a shiver._

_Kratos queried, "With what?"_

"_Mithos," Yuan answered simply. He paused, then nudged his companion's shoulder. "You'll be my best man, right?"_

"_If you're quick enough," the human replied. "If left to your own devices, I'll be dead by the time you ask her."_

_The half-elf studied the human, who was now watching the sun disappear from the horizon, bleeding orange hues into the darkening sky, his expression unreadable._

"_Then I'll ask her," he stated firmly. "I'll ask her tomorrow. I'll take her to the balcony by the church she likes so much and I'll ask her there."_

"_Do you think you can hold on to that enthusiasm until we next visit Meltokio?" Kratos uttered, a contented smile visible on his face, though his eyes didn't leave the sky._

_Yuan frowned. "Huh? Why?"_

_Kratos turned to face him, the smile truly lighting up his face now, his eyes soft and loving, an expression that, on Kratos, never failed to bring a smile to his own face, and didn't disappoint now._

"_You just asked if I would be your best man," he explained. "I wouldn't be much of a best man if I allowed you to propose to Martel without a ring now, would I?"_

"_Why Meltokio though?" Yuan quizzed, pondering._

_Kratos laughed and tapped the side of his nose as Yuan himself had earlier in their conversation. "It's a surprise. Just leave the ring up to me."_

Yuan had. His hand automatically sought comfort in his pocket, fingers clenching around the circular object they found within as if it was his only lifeline. The ring. The ring Kratos had painstakingly forged in his father's shop in Meltokio for him to give to Martel.

That did it. Yuan bit down on his tortured lip again but this time, as the blood came, so did the tears that he just couldn't hold back any longer. That ring was now as much a link to his lost fiancée as it was to the best friend he would ever have, lost through his own failure. As beautiful as it was, it was now nothing more than a reminder of what he had lost.

Kratos had worked so hard on it. It had meant so much to the human. Yuan had seen it in his eyes, when the finished article had been presented to him after a week of his best friend's absence.

And now he would never see those eyes again.

And he was the one to blame.

When Raine started to rub circles on his upper arm, he did not push her away. He was too numb to even feel her.

Hers weren't the fingers he could feel. They were his, desperately clutching at his arm as he fell into his arms. Raine wasn't the one whose hand dropped away from him. It was Kratos. It was always Kratos.

His black-clad Renegades started to lower the casket into the earth, his best friend making his descent into the eternal rest that had eluded them both for so long, making his escape from Yuan's vision.

Fresh realisation of a reality alone hit the half-elf as Zelos stepped forwards. He screwed his eyes closed as if by blocking out his view of his best friend's funeral, he could block out that reality without him. He took a gasping breath through a sob and an unsteady step backwards, followed by another.

He couldn't do this. He wanted to run, to leave this impossible scene in his nightmares, where it belonged. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? It had to be nightmare. It just had to be. There was no way Kratos could be dead, especially not because Yuan had failed him. Yuan would never fail him. He'd promised he'd always be there to catch the human and he didn't go back on his word.

His entire body quivered, his arms tingling with the memory of sensation, the memory of holding his best friend's body close, so close to his that he had felt the last beat of his heart, close enough to feel his last breath and to hear the word it carried with it, and the unnatural silence that followed. The emptiness.

He couldn't deal with this. He turned his back on the spectacle, staggering another step, clutching at his chest, where his own heart beat erratically as if to compensate for the lack of movement from his friend's.

Arms encircled him, the soothing voice of Raine whispering into his hair. His eyes snapped open, his body jerking away from hers. Hers weren't the arms he wanted around him. Hers wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. What right did she have to tell him it would be alright? It wouldn't and she had no right! None at all! He growled, blinking furiously at the tears, trying to clear his vision enough to see her when he asked her how she could dare to make light of Kratos' death.

Instead, he saw Lloyd, watching him in silence over Genis' head, rivers of grief flowing down his face but determination burning in his eyes. His deep, despairing, almond eyes.

The eyes that had stared up into his; soft, sad and fearful, all masks discarded and the affection for his best friend shining through the regrets. The eyes that were still open onto the world in death, that didn't want to close but had, because of Yuan. Because Yuan had hesitated as the life bled from those eyes, as the light left them and they dulled into the harsh, blank reality of mortality.

Kratos' eyes.

The eyes he would never look into again.

**AN: Not too angsty I hope... But yeah, this was originally a one-shot but I've decided to split it into parts to show each character's memory of Kratos a little more clearly. Yuan's was a particularly hard section to write 'cause of the number of years I could've chosen an event from... But I hope you liked what I chose.**

**Next chapter is Lloyd's.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**And please review! I need feedback!**


	2. Lloyd's Strength

**AN: so here it is; the next instalment. This is Lloyd's chapter. There should be 10 chapters in total of this – one for each character. I've written a slight plan of 8, including this one and the first chapter.**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own ToS.**_

The silence was suffocating, the kind of heavy silence that preyed upon the group and dragged them into its stony depths. Lloyd didn't like that silence. The only silences he enjoyed were the comfortable, natural silences he had grown to love, the ones that reminded him of home. This silence made everyone sluggish, made events crawl by with the slow steps of the Renegades.

Except Lloyd. Lloyd hadn't marched behind the casket. His strides had been long and powerful, Colette and Genis almost struggling to keep up on either side of him. Lloyd had taken the lead not because it was expected of him as leader of the group but because he couldn't bear the silence any longer and he wanted to speed up this whole, horrifying scene that he wanted no part of but suffered through anyway.

His expression remained strong in his resolve. Lloyd didn't think. Couldn't bring himself to think about anything to do with the scene in front of him. He didn't care what the Renegade priest was saying. He barely even noticed as the words floated over his head. Lloyd was the leader; he had to be strong for everyone else and that was all he needed to know. Any other thoughts were surplus to requirements, null and void, against the goal he strived so hard for: keeping a brave face.

Zelos stepped forwards. Lloyd noticed the cloud of red hair move past him, flinching as it reminded him of the enemies he'd slaughtered whose blood flowed around them as they fell in the same way as Zelos' hair fanned out behind him. He wondered if they had families too, if he'd forced people into the same situation as himself. But it didn't do to think like that. He wasn't allowed to think. Not yet.

Colette squeezed his hand, her blue eyes shining up at him, concern blazing from those expressive beacons to her soul. On his other side, Genis rubbed his arm, looking small and lost. His hair seemed to droop as brown eyes swept over him. He offered a small smile to his older, human friend, drawing himself even closer than he was before. Lloyd could feel the heat of his best friend's body seeping into his bones but it felt cold and dry. Colette's pressing into his other side and radiating through his hand was the same.

No heat seemed real today. But it didn't matter because today, he wasn't real. This wasn't real. It was just another test, and if Lloyd could convince himself of that, it would all be fine. Everything would just stop, if he could just get through this. If he could only get through this little test, none of it would be real. It would be like the spider Yggdrasil had created, just an illusion that he could break by staying strong, if he could only believe that it wasn't real.

Colette repositioned her hand in his, bringing the other one up to cup it and envelop his hand in hers as if to cocoon it, and spare it from this scene, the one that didn't exist. Except her nail caught his skin and it tore and pulled and stung, and it was real. It was real pain, a horrible, stinging pain that echoed the clenching and unclenching of his heart. It felt tight, like his heart was trapped within his body and unable to get out, like he was trapped in this harsh reality. The reality that couldn't exist, that he couldn't let himself doubt wasn't really real.

He was crying now, the tears rolling, slipping and sliding over his cold, numb cheeks in their bid to escape like he wanted to. But he had to stay strong. He had to hold it together, if not for the group then for Kra- for his da... No, that was too close. He was doing it for the group. Or for himself. He wasn't doing it for anyone else, because there wasn't anyone else to do it for. That was the harsh reality. He was the leader, and that was that. He was the leader and he would lead and that was what anyone would want, not Kratos, not his father, because he wasn't allowed to think such things today. If he did, he would break, and he couldn't break: he'd promised to destroy the exspheres for his... Because it was the right thing to do.

He heard a harsh, choking sound and turned his head. If there was something happening then he could watch it and he wouldn't have to watch Sheena take Zelos' place, could pretend he couldn't hear her whispered words or who they were addressed to.

What he saw was Yuan. Yuan was a leader too. Yuan was in charge of this scene, not Lloyd. It was Yuan's men, the men that Yuan led, that he gave orders to, that he paid, who were running this ceremony. Yuan was shrugging off Raine's attempt at comfort, and it was right, because Yuan was a leader as Lloyd was a leader and leaders had to be strong. That was the real reality. That was how things were supposed to be.

But it was wrong. It was so wrong. Yuan's dull, green gaze met his, rivulets of guilt, shame and horror staining his face, which contorted with grief moments later and sought solace in his gloveless hand. The hand seemed almost to claw at his eyes, as if to rip away the skin and cast it away with his responsibilities, with Lloyd's façade of reality until only hard, harsh facts were left.

Raine murmured something and pulled the hand away, setting into it a pale blue handkerchief. Her smile was caring and sympathetic as she watched on, knowing that she was doing all she could do to make it better. It was a parent's smile. It was a parent's face.

It was a face he wouldn't know again. His parents were both dead. They were supposed to be there. They were supposed to see him graduate from Raine's classes. They were supposed to be at that ceremony, mingling with the other parents and trying to seem normal, talking to Frank and Phaidra. They were supposed to be at his wedding when he got married. They were supposed to look after his child when he was exhausted. They were supposed to love and care for him.

And now they were gone. Now he was alone, with only his mother's exsphere, the exsphere that killed her, and a shard of the Cruxis crystal he couldn't bring himself to destroy. His father's soul. He'd wanted to keep it so that his father could still be with him. So that his father would somehow still be alive to watch over him and care for him like he always had.

If only Lloyd had realised that. Then maybe it wouldn't be so hard to let him go, so hard to convince himself that Kratos knew he loved him, that he knew he cared. There was so much that he'd missed, so many experiences he couldn't remember, so many lessons Kratos hadn't taught him. So many that he never would.

_Lloyd sat by the carved, grey headstone, staring up at the stars that shone down on his quest from above. Their bright light decorating the inky blackness of the sky seemed almost like hope. But it almost didn't matter about what he thought of the stars. He had to be here. It was habit._

_When he was younger, he remembered perching on his father's shoulders and reaching for the stars, which were always there, out of his reach but ever shining down on his world, the world he was on top of whenever he was with his father. The world that revolved around love and laughter._

"_Lloyd," a deep voice called softly, carefully, caringly._

_Lloyd turned his head to watch the older swordsman approach, slightly surprised as Kratos sat down next to him, folding his legs into a cross and leaning back on his hands in the most relaxed form he'd seen the man take._

"_Kratos," he acknowledged guardedly. The Cruxis member might have helped them, but he had still betrayed them, and Lloyd was confused. He trusted Kratos. He thought he trusted Kratos, but trust was difficult to recover and if Kratos was really on his side, he would fight for them, not for Cruxis, surely._

_They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in the sight of the sparkling sky. The silence felt natural and comfortable for Lloyd, which was strange. This familiarity made him feel safe, protected, and yet, Kratos was his enemy; he should be on edge._

_Finally, Kratos spoke. "You have grown stronger. You're becoming a man."_

_Lloyd could think of nothing to say to that, except, "What?"_

_Kratos' eyes flicked from the sky to the face of his former pupil. "I merely stated that you have grown stronger since we last fought for the same goal."_

_Lloyd shrugged awkwardly. "I guess I've gotten better with my swords."_

"_You certainly have, but that is to be expected," Kratos responded. "Your stance is still sloppy at times and you need to cover your left more or you could become a liability, but there has certainly been an improvement."_

"_Why are you telling me this?" Lloyd wondered, directly. Kratos was the enemy and yet, here he was helping him again. It didn't add up. None of this did._

_A smile brightened the older man's face. It was small but it was bright and shone like the stars in Lloyd's eyes, filling him with a sense of peace and pride._

"_You told me that you wished to become strong," Kratos explained. "And you are becoming so."_

"_You just told me I'm sloppy," Lloyd said, incredulously. Kratos was so confusing. He was always contradicting himself._

"_Hmph," was the reply, the small smirk still toying with his lips. "I told you before that simply being skilled with sword is not strength. It is not power that makes a swordsman great, but how he uses it. It is he himself, the man he chooses to be, the beliefs he chooses to uphold, and the rules he sets himself to adhere to. Skill with the sword, I can teach you, but the rest, I cannot. I can only guide you and trust that you will become the person I see you becoming."_

_Lloyd frowned and opened his mouth to ask exactly what the mercenary meant, but the man cut him off, leaning back again to tilt his head towards the stars, the contented, caring smile still splashed across his face. He looked relaxed, more than relaxed. It was like he'd come home after a long absence, despite Anna's tombstone looming behind him, covering him in its shadow. And Lloyd felt it too, that homely comfort only seeming stronger with Kratos there. As if he was meant to be. As if he belonged there._

"_I know you don't understand yet," Kratos said without turning his attention back to the boy at all. "Perhaps it is best that you don't try to. You will eventually. By then, you truly know the meaning of strength."_

_Silence fell upon them once again, and Lloyd thought he could see the glowing outline of Kratos' cerulean wings, pulsing calmly around them both, protecting them from the harsh world outside this bubble of home. A flash of memory hit him, of being cocooned in bright blue, of hearing deep laughter, of giggling, of feeling safe, of a woman's voice telling him she loved him, laughing with the man as a smaller voice berated 'Daddy'._

_Lloyd tilted his face up to the sparkling cosmos. "Kratos?" he called thoughtfully, breaking the silence._

_The man looked over, contentment in his deep, indulgent eyes as he smiled a small smile especially for his student. "Hmm?"_

_Lloyd blushed. His question suddenly seemed so stupid as he gazed into the face of the stern swordsman. But something in those dark eyes, so strangely similar to his own, compelled him to ask anyway. "What to do you think happens to people when they die?"_

_Something cut across the older man's eyes, his expression darkening before he shook his head slightly, returning his eyes to the inky sky. "Some say our souls ascend to heaven, others that they remain here but simply out of our reach on another plane. I have also been told that each star is the life of one who still has a loved one to watch over."_

"_So my mom..." Lloyd began._

_Kratos finished, "Is always with you, no matter what. Never forget that, Lloyd. You will never be alone. Your mother left you the exsphere that took her life. She left her life with you. And whether that exsphere has her soul or she looks down upon us from the stars, she will always be with you. You will never be without your parents' love."_

"_What about you?" Lloyd enquired sombrely._

_Kratos sighed tiredly. "What about me?"_

"_Well, you're sorta watching over us already," Lloyd started, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Why don't you come with us to cure Colette? Help us fix this system where everyone has to suffer!"_

"_As much as I would love to fight by your side once more," Kratos said softly, lowering his gaze to the ground, "I cannot. There is still much I must do that I can only achieve in my current position."_

_With that, the swordsman deftly rose, a darker emotion filling his eyes, which hardened as the skimmed over the grave and the boy. "I should leave. You should get some sleep. Remember my words. You must grow strong to change this corrupt system. Don't die, Lloyd."_

_His wings fluttered into their full, revealed splendour, casting the grave area in a calm, ocean glow, leaving Lloyd momentarily dumbstruck as Kratos turned away._

_He found his tongue, struggling quickly to his feet, as the Cruxis member took his first step. "Kratos!" he called, prompting the man to turn back to him as his wings lifted him into the air. He hovered in front of the red-clad boy, whose outfit shone purple under the mana light. "You be careful too, okay?"_

_The man's eyes widened, a gasp escaping his lips in the moment before they formed a wide, proud smile. He descended, his toes skimming the ground as he reached Lloyd and ruffled his hair with one warm, gloved palm. "I know I cannot say the same, as you will not be careful, but be safe and do not die."_

_One powerful movement of his wings lifted him above Lloyd's head, and he disappeared over the dark, foreboding shapes of the forest. Lloyd continued to watch as the glow he emitted faded until there was no trace of him left before he returned to his mother's grave and sat, looking up to the stars and hoping she was there._

_As he tilted his head, something blue and light tickled his neck and floated down behind him. It was a feather, a protective, blue feather that spread a loving warmth through his hands as he held it carefully. With a simple smile, he stashed it in his wing pack._

_Now his sword teacher would always be with him too._

The feather. Lloyd could have laughed. A feather, a locket and a shard of a Cruxis crystal. That was all he had left of his father. That and vague, childhood memories, and memories of being helped, being guided, being protected, and resenting the man for it. He'd resented Kratos so much, when all he'd been trying to do was be a parent to his son, to help him grow up into the kind of man he could be proud of. If he'd only known. If he'd only been able to call him 'dad'.

Colette was ushering him forwards, Sheena smiling supportively, Regal giving a nod of encouragement. Lloyd stepped up to the casket that lay alone, abandoned in the cold earth. The casket that contained his... his father.

"Dad," he managed to breathe. "What are you doing, Dad?"

He took several violent breaths, screwing his eyes closed, clenching his fists, trying to regain control – any control, anything to maintain the leader's strength that he'd worked so hard to have, so hard to hold. For Kratos, who wanted to see him grow strong.

"I'm sorry... I tried to be strong like you wanted but I can't- I can't..." He took more breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I should've stopped you... If I was stronger, I would've stopped you. If I was quicker..."

He'd been so far away. His arms had reached out, he'd lurched forwards, but he couldn't reach. He'd seen the man fall back, seen Yuan leap out of the foliage, seen the limp, lifeless body that could have been sleeping, should've been sleeping, would've been sleeping if Lloyd had just been that bit quicker. If he'd been strong enough to save his loved ones.

Because that was strength. Lloyd thought he understood now. Kratos had told him what true strength was. It was knowing what was right and wrong, and doing what was right. It was saving every life you could, and protecting loved ones.

It wasn't freezing in place and not moving quick enough, or watching idly as your own father died before your eyes, because _you_ needed Origin, because _you_ hadn't cared enough to find another way before charging in and fighting him because he wanted to make sure you were strong enough to fulfil your dreams, because he wanted you to live the life _you_ dreamed of.

Lloyd clutched the locket in his neck, his eyes burning fiercely. If there was one thing his father's and Mithos' and Yuan's lives had taught him, it was that mistakes could be corrected.

"Dad, I won't lose anyone else, I promise. There won't be any more sacrifices. But I'll... I'll make yours count. I'll fix this broken world, I promise you, Dad."

Mistakes could be corrected. Sins could be atoned for.

But it was with a heavy heart, a feeling of cold dread, an empty space in his heart and an unimaginable sense of grief and loss that Lloyd learned that while mistakes could be made up for, people couldn't be brought back from the dead.

He would save the world, but he had lost his father.

And even if his soul had escaped entrapment in the Cruxis crystal, even if he was watching from the stars, even if he was always with him, he would never see Kratos again.

Nothing he could do would bring Kratos back.

**AN: I'm sorry, guys. This one just doesn't seem to have half the emotion I wanted it to... Any suggestions on improving it would be much appreciated.**

**I have to say though, I enjoyed writing the flashback even if it didn't turn out how I imagined it; you've gotta love that oyako goodness!**

**But yeah, I don't know what else to put here, except that I'm planning on doing this chronologically from the funeral viewpoint and the involvement of different characters, which makes Zelos next and Sheena after him. Don't worry, you won't just be getting 10 different viewpoints on the funeral; some chapter occur afterwards, some I think will occur before. And the last chapter is Kratos' so you'll get the Torrent scene between flashbacks. I'm really looking forward to writing this one... Which is slightly sadistic... But moving on! ^.^'**

**Big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I got some really great reviews and you people really helped me to improve this and put a huge smile on my face, as well as motivating me to write this chapter, which was really difficult to write for me. So thank you!**

**And please give me feedback to improve my writing or a nice review to make me grin on your way out! ^_^**

**Hope you liked it!**

**~ThePurpleRose**


	3. Zelos' Doubts

**AN: For some reason I felt really compelled to do this now, even though I originally planned to finish 'Paternity' now my exam is over and I'm slightly less brain-dead. Don't worry though, 'Paternity' will be the thing I update after this (or should be). So I should be doing that tomorrow... That's the plan anyway.**

**But yeah, my rubbish organisational skills aside, let's move on the chapter. This chapter is definitely not as sad as the last one or as Kratos centric since I get the impression that Zelos and Kratos didn't exactly get on fantastically, but this chapter focuses more on the 'lesson'/ moral point. The flashback is the main point.**

**Now, on to writing the thing!**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own ToS... I'm still waiting for the rights to it to fall into my lap.**_

The Renegades' faces were impassive, their heads bowed respectfully, having reached the place where the body was to be buried. Zelos' face was more impassive than any of theirs. Still, emotionless, rehearsed. And really, it was. This wasn't Zelos' first funeral. He'd seen many; given blessings to many grieving families and their lost loved ones, and sat through a large number of dull, pompous ceremonies bidding farewell to deceased nobles and their not-so-noble endeavours.

This time, however, the ceremony hadn't preached the ways of Martel to her unwilling Chosen. It had been a short, simple, respectful sermon outside, beneath the trees, away from all traces of the corrupt system, focussing only on the life of the departed man. So this time, he wasn't reminded of how unfair the system or the courts were. He was simply reminded of the inevitability of death, of the unfairness of life.

Not that he felt it was anything new. It had just buried a little under the pomp and splendour of Meltokio. After all, this was just another funeral. The only difference was that he had been a witness to the death that preceded it, that they all had, all nine of the mourners. He stole a glance at Lloyd's pale face, the horror and disbelief that raged beneath the determination in his eyes, that lined the frown on his face, causing the red-head to flinch slightly.

He licked his dry lips, forcing his own resolve to harden. Those emotions were easily picked up to Zelos, but it wasn't all bad. There may only have been nine mourners but all nine were Lloyd's friends, all nine had been there at his father's death and all nine would be there to help him through it. They would pull together as a group.

At least Lloyd wasn't standing in a massive group of people, staring at a rich coffin and feeling more isolated, more alone than he had ever been before despite the vastness of the crowd and the numerous voices asking if he was alright, telling him how sorry they were. They hadn't been sorry. They'd been perfect strangers to him. He had barely known their names.

It had been just him and Sebastian, suffocating in a sea of black that rippled and raged first for his father, then for his mother. Murmured condolences had buzzed around him, irritating his ears, and at first, he'd cowered into Sebastian. The butler had smiled, and that had been the moment. The moment that Zelos had realised he couldn't depend on anybody, couldn't care about a soul, not openly. Because they would only leave him in the end. They would only create their own sad sea, their own storm of mourners to rage around him and cut him off from existence.

It was like she said; he should never have been born. Then she would have lived. Then his father wouldn't have died, Seles would have been Chosen in his place. Everyone would've been happy. If only he hadn't been born.

If he was a good person, Zelos would simply have run, far away from Meltokio, away from the people he would hurt, away from the system, the responsibilities, the riches. If he hadn't been so selfish, such an unworthy, useless Chosen, such a drain on mana and resources. He was a disgrace, a disappointment, he knew this; he was told often enough.

He heard a stifled sniffle by his side, jolting him from his thoughts of self loathing to the ninja who stood next to him with her hand pressed to her mouth. Their eyes met, Sheena squaring her shoulders, swallowing and setting her face into stony stillness, showing him she didn't need his help, showing him she was strong now, that she could stand on her own feet, hold herself together without anyone's help, that she had made it to the end, to the person she was proud to be.

She was every bit the ninja, every bit the heroine of the new world, the master summoner who had made the pacts that had brought the worlds together again, had done some good to the world. His eyes moved on from her, to the casket that held one of the world's previous heroes. He wondered if the man within, their ninth companion, would be remembered in the same way, or if he would simply fade away into non-existence like Zelos was sure he would when he died.

But then, he didn't think the mercenary would mind. Zelos would never admit it, but they appeared to be so similar. Both of them had worked for Cruxis behind Lloyd's back. Both of them had been betrayers, double agents, enemies. Both of them had switched to the right side in the end.

Yet, Zelos had sided with the strongest. Kratos had done what was right. Kratos had always been on Lloyd's side, had always been helping him, hardly openly, hardly noticeably, but he had done it, and believing it was for no credit, believing he would be remembered as a traitor, a villain.

His face flashed into Zelos' memory, the small, contented smile he wore when Lloyd's blade touched the tip of his chin. Yes, Kratos was happy with that. The man no longer cared what happened to him; he had sacrificed himself totally, given all he could and more for their cause, even his soul.

All that was left of him, the evidence of his sacrifice, of his final battle, the one with death, was inside the casket that the Renegades arranged carefully to be lowered into the nurturing earth, into his final bed, his final resting place. All that was left of the once proud, powerful person and the most noble act Zelos had known anyone to commit, trading his own life for the lives of others. An act like that deserved to be honoured, deserved the respect of a weak, selfish person like Zelos.

As the respectful Renegades began to lower the fallen swordsman into the earth, Zelos threw a black rose atop the ancient hero's eternal prison, the proud symbol falling limply onto the darkened surface. It lay there unmoving, as lifeless as the body of the man, almost looking sad, pathetic and insignificant in comparison to the great, forbidding shape of the coffin it rested on.

That was one thing Kratos hadn't been. He hadn't been insignificant, he wouldn't be; Zelos wouldn't allow it. He would never forget the auburn haired man, he knew that at least. Kratos had never been insignificant or pathetic, even in death.

Zelos could see it as clearly as a photograph; the pale, still figure clutched desperately in Yuan's arms, the half-elf sobbing, a series of sharp breaths his only sound while Lloyd moaned denial, shaking the man, screaming for Raine. It was chaos. It was horror. And yet through it all, Kratos looked serene, otherworldly, as if he'd risen above them all, ascended to where he belonged, as if he knew things would be okay, knew the world would be saved, knew it was his death that made it happen.

And maybe, Zelos thought, he did. Maybe the mercenary was able, in those final, precious moments, to see himself clearly, to see what kind of person he was, to see that he truly was a hero.

As he stepped back, a shaky Sheena taking his place, he found a small, wry smile spreading across his lips. He exhaled sharply, just short of laughing at his stupidity. Of course Kratos had. Hadn't the mercenary himself taught him that?

_They were going to the Tower. He was leading them to the Tower. It would all be over soon, and Zelos didn't even know who he wanted to win. He sided with the strongest, always had. Logic told him that Cruxis was the best bet; they had the most aces; they had the better deal. If he chose Cruxis, he would be released from his status as Chosen. He would undo some of the damage he'd caused with his mere existence in this world. Seles would be Chosen, he would be out of her life. The wrongs he had done her would be put right. _

_That was what he wanted. His mind told him this would be the best bet. But his heart was telling him something entirely different. A ghost of laughter rang through his ears; Lloyd's loud guffaw, Genis' snort, Colette's giggle, Raine's polite titter, Regal's deep chuckle. And his own laugh. These were the sounds he'd become accustomed to, the sounds he was becoming a part of._

_These people didn't hate him yet. Even Sheena, who was hitting him constantly for hitting on her constantly, even she joked with him, smiled for him, opened up to him. Betraying them would feel like betraying the only family he had ever truly known._

_But if he wanted to save what was left of his real family, the one he'd plagued with his presence for too long now, he would have to, wouldn't he?_

_Would he?_

_He growled in frustration, leaning back into the tree behind him._

"_A difficult dilemma, I presume?"_

"_Gah!" Zelos spluttered, fumbling in a futile effort to grab his weapon, succeeding only in sitting bolt upright to stare up at the man who had moved to stand in front of him, casting a black shadow over him._

"_Kratos!" he exclaimed, recognising the figure. "What do you want?"_

"_Many things," the lord of Cruxis responded cryptically._

_Zelos scowled. He didn't like the enigmatic swordsman at all. There was something harsh yet sorrowful about him. He acted like he had many faces when in reality he gave off a subtle vibe that said he was as honest as they came. And Zelos hated that; it was like he should be able to work the man out but couldn't, and failure wasn't something that Tethe'alla's Chosen enjoyed._

"_Why did you come here? Does Cruxis want anything else from me?" he enquired darkly._

"_I have received no orders from Cruxis regarding your deployment on any tasks for the organisation," Kratos replied, turning to lean against a tree, arms folded, close by the other red-head, who made no effort to move from his position against another tree trunk. "I merely joined you here because I noticed that you seem to be having some difficulties making a decision."_

"_You're here to ensure my loyalty, aren't you?" Zelos scoffed harshly. "You don't have to worry; I always side with the strongest, you know that."_

"_Maybe so," the man answered, knowingly. "But you may wish to re-evaluate which side will prove to be the strongest."_

_Zelos narrowed his eyes towards Kratos, the false mercenary's eyes almost glassy as he stared ahead into the foliage. "What do you mean? Which side are you even on, Old Timer?"_

"_I mean nothing that you don't already know," Kratos said, tapping a finger against the hilt of his sword. "But know that as things currently stand, I am your enemy."_

_Zelos let out a short, barking laugh. "Well you can tell your lovely leader he doesn't have to worry about my loyalty. I'm selfish; I'm not a nice guy. I never pretended to be. Truthfully, I side with the strongest to get what I want and I want to be released from my status as the Chosen. As long as I get what I want, I'm happy to be the bad guy. I don't care that what Cruxis is doing isn't right so long as it's right for me. If that makes me a villain then so be it."_

"_What makes you believe that doing the opposite to this would make you my enemy?" Kratos responded, a small smirk visible beneath his hair. "You've just told me what you think of Cruxis' ideals, no matter which path you choose to go down. Personally, I believe the outcome will be the same in the end anyway; you will realise which side you are on. People always do. I just hope that realisation does not come too late for you. Though it appears as though you have made your choice."_

"_Hah! You think you know me?" Zelos retorted, ripping up grass in his fist and scattering it into the breeze, watching the pieces helplessly fly away._

"_No," Kratos replied softly. "I do not presume to know you. I don't think I could when it is obvious that you do not know yourself."_

"_What rock have you been living under all these decades, old man?" Zelos muttered. "You must be going senile to think like that. I go with whatever choice is best for me. I know I'm not a good person – I just don't care."_

"_Humph," the older swordsman stated, "It is not until the moment of your death that you become aware of the person you truly are, when you can recount your life and know what became of it. Until then, there is time for you to change. Very few people cross the point of no return before this," he finished gravely, with a slow shake of his head._

_Zelos shrugged, retorting, "And here's a proverb for you; leopards can't change their spots. So why bother trying?"_

"_For the same reason you spend so much time worrying what the other Chosen and her group think of you," Kratos answered, a faraway look on his face as he pushed away from the tree. "But I have things that I must do. So I shall take my leave now. I trust that you will find the correct answer soon enough, Chosen."_

He had, and he had finally been able to understand what it was that made Lloyd clamour for the man's approval. Standing in that chamber, after helping the mercenary save the group from those impossible traps, witnessing the nod of approval and the small, indulgent smile on older man's face, Zelos had realised what it was about Kratos that he had first hated so much.

He was honest, even if he hid things and avoided telling the whole truth. And he was usually right.

And if he was right about what he said that day, and you really had until the moment of your death to make yours a life to be proud of, then Zelos should be pleased, because it meant there was still a chance. He wasn't a hero yet, he knew that, but he could become a good person.

He had chosen the right side. Now he had to do the right thing.

Sheena rejoined him, sniffling as silent tears slid down her pale cheeks, allowing him to pull her into himself with one warm arm, a wavering yet grateful smile on her face at his sincere expression. She drew herself closer, wiping her eyes with her obsidian sleeve before a low whisper and the sound of two footsteps caught their attention.

Sheena turned, but Zelos continued to stare ahead. Because that was all he could do now. It wasn't any use brooding over his past failings; it was time to take up that chance and make sure his future would be full of success.

Lloyd passed them both, his shoulders shaking with the force of his grief as he took his place in front of the grave, in front of the group.

Zelos lowered his eyes. Kratos might have been gone, but there was another hero who had taught Zelos how to do what was right, and who would continue to teach this to the new world.

And Zelos no longer needed this hero's father there to tell him whether he should back him up.

**AN: Okay, I'm not too happy with this chapter. I don't like the ending, but I felt I needed something there to tie it all together...**

**But anyway, this one was a little different from the first two – nowhere near as sad. The next one – Sheena's chapter – will most likely be a little sadder, but they aren't going to get quite as emotional as the first two until we get to Raine. Kratos' chapter, obviously, should be the worst tear-jerker...**

**I was actually going to focus on Zelos losing his father in this chapter, but I figured we needed a break from all the grieving of the first two.**

**But anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this.**

**Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers; it makes my day to know people are reading/ enjoying my writing. And as always, it would be great if you could tell me what you thought of this chapter.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~ThePurpleRose**


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